Chuck is the author of the published novels: Blackbirds, Mockingbird, Under the Empyrean Sky, Blue Blazes, Double Dead, Bait Dog,Dinocalypse Now, Beyond Dinocalypse and Gods & Monsters: Unclean Spirits. He also the author of the soon-to-be-published novels: The Cormorant, Blightborn (Heartland Book #2), Heartland Book #3, Dinocalypse Forever, Frack You, and The Hellsblood Bride. Also coming soon is his compilation book of writing advice from this very blog: The Kick-Ass Writer, coming from Writers Digest.

He, along with writing partner Lance Weiler, is an alum of the Sundance Film Festival Screenwriter’s Lab (2010). Their short film, Pandemic, showed at the Sundance Film Festival 2011, and their feature film HiM is in development with producers Ted Hope and Anne Carey. Together they co-wrote the digital transmedia drama Collapsus, which was nominated for an International Digital Emmy and a Games 4 Change award.

Chuck has contributed over two million words to the game industry, and was the developer of the popular Hunter: The Vigil game line (White Wolf Game Studios / CCP). He was a frequent contributor to The Escapist, writing about games and pop culture.

Much of his writing advice has been collected in various writing- and storytelling-related e-books.

He currently lives in the forests of Pennsyltucky with wife, two dogs, and tiny human.

He is likely drunk and untrustworthy. This blog is NSFW and probably NSFL.

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Chuck Wendig is a novelist, screenwriter, and game designer. This is his blog. He talks a lot about writing. And food. And the madness of toddlers. He uses lots of naughty language. NSFW. Probably NSFL. Be advised.

Why Your Novel Won’t Get Published

You know the word “scapegoat,” right? Are you aware of the origins?

It’s like this: in what we’ll just call “Bible Times,” the community would heap all their sins upon a goat. The sins were metaphorical; the goat was not. Then they would kick that goat in the ass and force him into the desert, where presumably he’d either a) get into crazy adventures with the Devil and a talking cactus or (more likely) b) die and be eaten by flies. Either way, that goat carried your sins away from town. When the goat expired, so did all your terrible actions.

Your novel is kinda the opposite of that pathetic goat: onto it you heap not your sins, but your greatest hopes and dreams. “One day, you’ll be a bestseller,” you whisper to the goat as you duct-tape your manuscript to his back. Then you put him in the elevator and send him into the Publishing Wilderness, where he will either a) randomly wander into the proper agent or editor office and get your book published or (more likely) b) die and be eaten by flies.

Brutal honesty time:

That novel of yours isn’t likely to get published. The numbers just aren’t in your favor. Last I did a sweep of the Internet, it was home to 500,000,000 writers. Once you remove the wanna-be dilettantes, you still end up with 1,000,000 left. And they’re all fighting to have their manuscripts published.

You gotta maximize your chances of putting a kick-ass book into the ecosystem where it bites, kicks, shivs and garrotes any other novel that gets in its way. One way to do that is to identify the many pitfalls that await you, your book, and its goat.

1. Them Brownies Ain’t Done Baking

Brownies need long enough in the oven, or the middle ends up soft, gooshy, and still uncooked. Your novel might suffer from that problem: you sadly didn’t do enough with it. Maybe it needs another draft. Maybe it needs a strong copy-edit. Could be that it will benefit from some challenging readers or from a down-to-earth writer’s group. Whatever the case, the novel just isn’t “there yet.”

Make sure you’re spending enough time and effort on that sucker before you loose it into the world.

2. Your Training Wheels Are Still Attached

Sometimes the problem isn’t the novel — the problem is you. Ever hear the term “starter novel?” It means that this is your first book and it implies that this first book just isn’t a fully-formed novel. It was a learning process. It was an experiment. The training wheels are still squeaking and rattling.

Hey, listen, I wrote five novels before I got an agent for the sixth. Those first four novels were crap, the fifth almost got me an agent, and the sixth really sealed the deal. I learned as I wrote. I grew as a writer. I kicked the training wheels off. Now I’m on a mad Huffy BMX bike. Or maybe a Vespa scooter.

That’s right. I said it. A Vespa. Mmmm. I know I’m sexy.

Wait, what? I dunno. Point is, you still have work to do as a writer. Let this novel be a stepping stool to other, better books. Is it guaranteed that your first novel is a stinker? No. But I’d call it a reasonable chance, so it’s best to get some informed opinions before you pin your publishing dreams to it.

3. You’re Allergic To Following Instructions (AKA You Suffer From “The Special Snowflake” Conundrum)

When you submit a novel, you are beholden to a number of instructions supplied by the agent or the editor. “Send the first five pages and a query letter; also include a deed signing over the soul (but not body) of your first-born child. Please include an SASE as well as a feather from a peacock made of molten pewter.”

Writers, for whatever reason, think they’re immune to such instruction. As if it’s some kind of test. “Oh, they don’t mean me. My novel is sublime. It transcends such petty nitpickery. Lesser authors will be caught in the netting of micromanagement while I — champion of all writer-kind! — send them a novel written across 40,000 Post-It notes and shoved into the digestive tract of this here billy goat.”

You are not immune. Follow the fucking instructions. You are not a special snowflake. Do what they ask. Do so politely. Shut up about how they’re trying to oppress you and just dance the dance.

4. Novel’s Great, But The Query Letter Sucks Eggs

You’ve written a 90,000 word novel. And now you have to condense it down into 250 words.

Trust me, it’s hard. I know. It’s like putting on 200 lbs but you still have to fit into your Speedo bathing suit: it feels like you’re cramming so much into so little.

Sure, sure, it isn’t fair. Neither is a 40-hour work-week. Go home and cry in your mother’s vagina. You want to sell that book, that means you have to put together a good query. I don’t know that you need to put together a great query — you just need to convince them to take a peek at your beast. And I don’t mean that in a creepy, sexy way, either: the query is there to convince them to take it to the next level and request a full manuscript. Then your book can sell itself, as you had intended.

5. You’re A Dick

Maybe your novel is the bee’s knees, the cat’s pajamas, the canine’s testicles (as they say in England).

Fact remains, if you’re just a big ol’ douchey dickface, nobody’s going to want to touch you with a ten foot pole. This is an industry of people. You’re selling your novel, but your novel won’t even get in the door if you can’t muster cursory politeness and expected tact. Are you a whiny, complainy, ego-driven Negative Nancy? Not a good sign. If the author is more trouble than the novel is worth, well…

*poop noise*

So sorry. No consolation prize. Buh-bye.

Be nice. Put a good face out there. You don’t need to be bland or boring or Suzy Sunshine all the time.

Just don’t be a dick.

6. What Genre Is That, Again?

Ask yourself this: “Where will this go in the bookstore? In what section? On what shelf?” If that has no clear answer, then you’re throwing up a red flag. “It’s horror paranormal romance mystery, with sci-fi elements. Oh, and it also has recipes!” Hey, I think that’s an awesome and brave experiment and maybe you’ll have some luck with it. But you have to recognize that, for better or for worse, publishing is in shaky straits right now and it’s running a little scared. Something that doesn’t fit in any box is problematic — how do you market something whose market is uncertain? If you can’t do it, neither can they.

7. Deja Vu

“And then Neo sticks his lightsaber into the Eye of Mordor. Popeye kisses Olive. The End.”

Your work is derivative.

Maybe you didn’t mean for it to be, but it is. Or maybe you thought it was some kind of “homage.” Either way, an agent is going to look at it and say, “Seen it, done that, don’t need it, need a nap.”

You might be asking, “Wait, I’m supposed to stay inside the box but also think outside the box?”

And now you know why it’s so hard to get a book published.

Yes. We want comfort and familiarity without redundancy.

Shepherding a novel to publication is like threading a needle. Blind. On a moving train. While you’re being attacked by monkeys with sticks. Good times.

8. The Book Is Not, How You Say, “Commercially Viable?”

Something about the book is just striking the, “I don’t know if this will sell” bell. Maybe “vampire koalas” aren’t hot this year. Maybe the book-buying public has, in polls, revealed a certain discomfort with novels that prominently feature “cat abortions” as a plot point.

This is a tough one (says the author who perhaps knows it intimately).

Maybe your book is in a niche. A niche is nice in that it has an audience, but its audience may be too small to accommodate publication — which makes the niche a bad place to be.

Either way, the best advice is, be ready to make changes. Changes that will mold the book into something that is deemed attractive to a money-wielding audience.

9. Sometimes, Even The Brightest Spark Won’t Catch Fire

You might have a glorious masterpiece in your hands and yet… bzzt. Nothing. You know it’s awesome. Everybody else knows its awesome. And yet for some reason, it just isn’t happening.

What can you do about it?

*blank stare*

I really don’t know. You probably have two courses of action:

1) Be patient. Eventually an editor will get mauled by a tiger or something and then you can try again.

2) Self-publish. The publishing world doesn’t know your novel’s glory, so you must become its pimp.

10. Unfortunately, You’re A Deluded, Talentless Hack

Out of the 500,000,000 writers out there, do you honestly believe that they’re all top notch penmonkeys? Mmmyeah. No. Some of them are completely in love with the stink of their own word-dumpsters, just huffing their foul aromas, getting high on inelegance and ineptitude.

Thing is, if you’re that guy, you’re probably never going to not be that guy. It’s possible that, once you recognize the illusion you may shatter it as if it were a distorting funhouse mirror, but that won’t do anything for the “talentless” portion of our competition. Some people just aren’t meant to be writers no matter how much they want to be that thing. Reality is a cold bucket of water.

Of course, realistically, if you’re deluded, then you’re probably not even reading this post, are you? And if you are, you’re not going to take any of my advice — not one lick of it. Which is okay, because hey, maybe I’m a deluded, talentless hack, too.

Anyway, looking to hear from you kids out there in the audience. Writers, editors, agents: why aren’t novels getting published? I’m sure I missed something. Shout it out.

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152 comments

Ha ha ha, I like it all. Us Aussies are always two farts behind everyone else writing in the Australian idiom because the world doesn’t know where we are. Australia isn’t that small country in Europe that was overrun by Kangaroos in WW2….That’s Austria and they were Germans! For the first thirty years of my adult life I believed that I was going to have paintings exhibited in world-wide galleries next to Pollock and Monet, sadly that didn’t happen either. Now that I’m writing my third Jock Snatcher novel, a thriller no less, I know that this is my forte! Hang in there guys, Sydney wasn’t built in a day either. Regards from Perth Western Australia. Charlie

Hi Charlie, I doubt you will see this, but I’m in Perth too. I am having difficulty in finding agents / publishers who represent fantasy. I don’t suppose you could point me in the right direction? There seem to be more representation abroad for the fantasy genre. I really hope to hear from you. It’s so nice to see Aussie talent getting recognised and out there.

Great article! It left me feeling dead inside, but guess what, I still want to write my book!

At what point should unpublished writers approach literary agents? I’ve been working on my latest project for more than a year now. I’ve written a basic summary of each chapter and finished the first 15.

nice article. been writing for years and still can’t get a prom date, even an ugly one. this is a tough biz, but then so is fine art, pop music, photography and filmmaking. if you want to make it in any creative venture you’ve simply got to be better than everyone else. how do you know if and when you’re at that stage? beats the crap out of me.

Writing the novel is for one’s own enjoyment, nothing more. You have a greater chance of being struck by lightening than possessing a pen compelling enough to enter the gates of Valhalla. In short, there are few endeavors that represent such an egregious waste of time as writing. Your little scribbling hobby better hold great personal value because even the most stubborn fame seeker will awaken some day to the epiphany that rain eventually finds an unwitting parade.
On a positive note, this dour view doesn’t apply to the miniscule fraction of biological matter than actually have marketable talent.

Mixed feelings about this article. In many of his points he blames the writer themselves, and to be fair, there are those out there who just can’t write, or who break many of these rules. But I’ve met many who are very good writers who don’t get published, and for none of the reasons listed.. However, I give him credit by including No. 9, that sometimes even the best don’t make it—it can be a sheer numbers game. As for the “your work is derivative” thing, my response is that any visit to your local B&N or BAM or Amazon.com reveals an amazing number of copy-cat novels that get published (can we say “here’s yet another cooker-cutter vampire novel/slasher novel/espionage novel”?) My own experience? I’ve test marketed my novels, with very good response, my query letters are very strong (many agents have even said so), and I most definitely follow instructions from agents (and, there are a handful of agents who simply don’t know how to write instructions–demonstrably). So with my own work, it’s possible it might just need some more work. Or, I just haven’t found the right agent, after 60+ tries. Also, self publishing definitely does not deserve its rep, and I’m glad he included a link about that. SP takes guts and the rewards can be awesome.

Chuck, I love me some truth and this has a ton of it. Which means… some aren’t going to like it. There’s perhaps one more problem in obtaining an agent. I wrote about this on my own blog awhile back. If writers keep trying to get the agent who publishes the king of the heap in their particular genre and get him/her, it might be the biggest mistake they’ll ever make. The example I used was the two writers, Matt Hilton and Lee Child. If Matt had gone after Lee’s agent (since they both employ similar protagonists and that appears, on the surface, to be good reasoning) and landed with him or her, then what happens when the agent sends out both their work? There are only a limited number of publishing spots out there. So, does said agent send Matt’s work to the place where he sends Lee’s? Ya think? I doubt it. Lee’s the big boy on the block and while I personally like Matt’s books just as much and sometimes even more, I doubt this agent is going to have his two clients compete with each other with the same publisher. So, I imagine that means he’s going to send Matt’s to at least a bit smaller press. I imagine also that he’s not going to put the same energy into moving Matt’s book as he does Lee’s. This is nothing against either author–both of whom I admire immensely. It’s just that it may be a mistake to try to land with the same agent as reps the big boy on the block. I think if I wrote horror, I’d be making a mistake to try to land Stephen King’s guy or gal. I really think this is a strategy that is often employed without fully thinking it through. It’s just not logical to think that an agent isn’t going to prioritize his clients according to who makes him the most money. Of course they are. To me, it represents much more solid logic to query an agent who doesn’t have a top dog in his stable in my genre–I would like to be that guy. And, I know the reasoning goes that if Random House publishes Lee, then they’re big enough to want to corner the market and also publish Matt. However, that reasoning falls apart if Matt’s say equally-talented with Lee but doesn’t have the rep. That agent’s most likely not going to waste his shot with R.H. with Matt, but would more likely send his work to a smaller press (which is… everybody else…). All of this to simply say, writers might want to think their choice of agents to approach in a more logical fashion if they want to experience success. Sorry this is so long–I didn’t have time to write short…